


Just to Reach You

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Series, Satsu/Buffy Summers-mention, mentions of S8-no Twilight Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Post-Series. Spike and Buffy have been a couple for almost two years. The honeymoon is over and together they're discovering they still have a lot to learn about themselves, each other, and how this whole "normal" relationship thing works.Written for the Fall 2017 Round of Seasonal Spuffy. Beta'd by Gort and Swifthorse.





	1. Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Story Notes:
> 
> Set in Cleveland, Spain, and Gibraltar. 
> 
> I've taken a few liberties with the post series timeline in this fic and have AtS S5 and Buffy S8 having happened at the same time more or less. There is no Twilight arc here, however, because I'll always happily rub it out of existence whenever I can.
> 
> During the course of the fic Buffy mentions her relationship with Satsu numerous times (the reason for the Buffy/other tag), and while the events of that relationship generally follow canon, I have taken liberties to improve things both there and with Buffy's friendship with Willow during that time as I find the depiction of both relationships in the comics to be disgusting and unforgivable. However, there are no flashback scenes and no knowledge of the comics is needed to enjoy this story. 
> 
> TW: There will be mention of the events of Seeing Red and Dead Things. Buffy's (and Spike's, to some degree) sexual orientation is a theme in this fic and is a frequent part of the story as Buffy grapples with it. 
> 
> Six Chapters, updates as I am able, originally written for the Fall 2017 Round of Seasonal Spuffy. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Porque te dí todo el amor que pude dar

               -Selena, “Como La Flor”

****

Spike was going to be sleeping on the couch.

Not that Buffy sending him off to do so had been a problem before. The one time she had—he couldn’t actually remember why—he’d woken up to her throwing herself into his arms and sobbing hysterically about missing him. She’d also been naked and more than willing to show him exactly how sorry she had been. That’d been neat.

But right now, she looked really brassed off.

It wasn’t his fault she could almost read his mind.

She’d become a champion at it during the last year and a half that they’d been together. Actually, it was right around twenty months, but who was counting. When he’d seen her, a proper Valkyrie swooping in to save the day with her army of Slayers, he thought he must have already dusted. Until she’d caught sight of him, froze, and he’d had to save her from being skewered. They hadn’t been apart since. The honeymoon phase had lasted a lot longer than he’d expected, though lately they’d settled into something more comfortable. Something more worrisome. He was waiting. Now that the high was gone and he wasn’t shining so bright in her eyes, Spike kept waiting for the day Buffy would figure out he wasn’t worth it and he’d be left behind.

Dear god, please don’t let his bloody mouth have made today that day.

The dirty patches of snow crunched under his boots as he walked and a few flakes fell from the cloudy night sky. Cleveland in late winter was just such a delight. Orange light from humming streetlamps lit the sidewalk, but it was late enough that most of the shops were closed up for the night. Buffy, wearing a black toque and pink puffy jacket, was stomping down the sidewalk ahead of him.

Usually, post-patrol, she’d be beside him with his arm draped around her shoulders, talking a mile-a-minute about everything and nothing. It was one of his favorite things, the simple feeling of being a normal part of her world. Having managed to bollix up their peaceful time together up was smarting.

Spike ran a hand over his face. This night was shite.

It was cold, the whole city stank from the sludge trapped in the old snow, and now Buffy was in a snit.  He couldn’t even blame her. He was chewing himself out. He was an ass. A stupid one.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.

It was such a bloody ridiculous thing. They’d been patrolling in one of the city’s graveyards and surprised a couple vamps. The female vampire’s hair had been long and blonde, and Buffy had said, as she dusted the vamp: “Huh, that one kind of looked like Harmony.”

He could have made a quip. Or kissed Buffy. Or done one of a million other things besides say: “Yeah.”

Buffy had looked at him, scowled, and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, out with it.”

“Uh,” he’d brilliantly replied.

“I know you. You’ve got that look. The one that says the soul is needling you about something.” Her eyes had narrowed. “And since I just mentioned her, this something must have to do with Harmony.”

Spike had looked into the beloved face of one of the most important people to have ever entered his life and had wanted to lie really, really badly. Only he was sodding terrible at it. Plus, his soul was having fits, it didn’t like keeping things from Buffy. So he’d bowed his head and confessed. “Right after I was recorporalized, like right after, I sort of slept with Harmony.”

“Excuse me? Sort of?” Buffy had sounded bewildered, but he hadn’t dared to look up. Shame was crushing him. He had no idea what he’d been thinking, besides that he’d been drunk on being part of the world again.

“Uh, there was this whole problem-with-reality thing that was happening and we didn’t finish. Neither of us…finished.” He’d winced. God, would someone hand him a bigger shovel? He wasn’t digging himself a hole fast enough.

“Because that makes it so much better?”

He’d scratched the back of his neck. “Luv, you asked, and you have to know it didn’t mean anything.”

“I can’t believe you…with Harmony.” She’d whirled on her heel and stomped off. “Let’s go, we’re done here.”

She’d yet to say another word to him. It was driving him barmy. Buffy had to know it’d meant less than nothing. Maybe he should tell her that even wacked out, Harm had started screeching about how he only wanted his Slayer. “Buffy,” he said, jogging forward and reaching for her.

She spun to face him. “Stop, just stop.” He halted and his hand fell back to his side. The blinking red neon of the open sign of the Chinese food place they’d halted in front of was strobing across her face and making her expression difficult to read.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “You don’t get it.”

He wanted to kick something, or yell, or punch a wall. He was bloody frustrated. How was he supposed to get anything? All he knew was that she was fuming over something he’d done what felt like eons ago when he hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. Buffy could be a jealous little thing, and usually it pleased him to no end to see her eyes flash as she put her hands on him to stake her claim, but something was different about this and he couldn’t suss out what. So he let out a breath and forced himself to calm down. “Then tell me, Buffy. Please.”

She hated to talk, some things never changed.

Her lips pressed together, but then, to his surprise, she crossed her arms and hung her head. Her voice came out reed thin. “You could touch things, could do things, and did you pick up a phone? Did you make even the slightest effort to find me? No, you bang Harmony.” Venom dripped off the last word.

Oh.

Pain cinched around him like razor wire. Guilt, remorse…and fear. She’d leave him. Terror gripped his heart. He couldn’t make this better. He’d been an idiot and there was no way to fix it. “Luv, it wasn’t like that.” He went to his knees on the filthy pavement. He wasn’t worthy of her. Never worthy. Stupid. Useless. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her hip. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Already had been hearing about how much you moved on…wasn’t to hurt you…I’ll hunt her down, dust her…don’t go, pet…please.”

There was a tug on the lapel of his coat and slowly he dropped his arms away from his sunlight and stood, ready to be told exactly where he belonged, which wouldn’t be with her.

He didn’t think he’d survive being without her again.

Buffy sighed and put her arms around him, leaning against his chest. “Chill, Spike. Now I’m the one that’s sorry. I forget that I’m not the only one with issues. I’m not about to kick you to the curb for some dumb thing you did when we weren’t actually together. Only, ugh…Harmony? At least my girlfriend was nice.”

Spike was giddy with relief. “Oh Buffy, sweets, love you so bloody much. Love you…did you say girlfriend?”

He cupped her face with both hands and he could feel her blush.

“You had a girlfriend?” he tried again. His Buffy? He couldn’t even figure out how to feel about that.

“Er…yeah. I did. For a while.”

The puzzle pieces weren’t going together. “Like a friend that was a girl? A really close friend?”

“Like I slept with her.”

A circuit blew somewhere in his brain. “Uh—”

“She was an important part of my life. I fell apart a little, after Sunnydale, and she helped me find myself.” Buffy ran her hands over the leather covering his chest. Her fingers fluttered.

Spike forced his scrambled thoughts to make sense. Buffy wanted, no needed, to talk. It was a precious gift he wasn’t going to risk shutting down. She’d been beyond reluctant to open up about what had happened to her between him burning in the hellmouth and when she’d swooped back into his life like an Amazonian goddess.

“You want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked, nodding his head towards the Chinese place.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Inside, a lady that looked as if she might be the same age he was took their order at the front counter and took an agonizing long amount of time to count out the change from the twenty he used to pay. When she was at last done, Spike put a hand on Buffy’s back to guide her to a small table with two rickety chairs.

The plates of food arrived quickly and Buffy stuffed her cheeks like a hamster. He waited until she’d swallowed. “You want to tell me about this bird of yours, luv?”

“Kind of?” She twirled another bite of beef lo mein around her fork and looked up at him. “Are you going to get all weird?”

“Define ‘weird’.”

She wrinkled up her nose in that adorable way he loved. “Super jealous, or be more of a pig than usual.” 

Ah.

He smiled lopsidedly. “I’ll do my best, luv, though when have you ever known me to be able to stick to the straight and narrow?”

She snorted, then grinned. “Fine. I won’t expect you to be a saint.”

He ran his fingers over the back of her hand that was resting on the table. He felt more blessed than any saint just being in the same room as her.

“Where should I start?” she asked.

“At the beginning, I suppose,” he said, and her brows drew together. “How did that particular ball get rolling?”

She slowly ate another bite and sipped on her diet soda. He could almost smell the wheels turning in her skull. Finally, she set her fork down. “This is going to sound terrible, but I don’t know how it started. Satsu was just another Slayer, one of many new faces.  I knew the basics about her, that she was a few years younger than me, was from Japan, and that she had black hair and brown eyes. I didn’t think about her more than any of the other girls, but while I was busy trying to hold myself together, she fell in love.” Buffy bit her lip. “And I never even saw it happening.”

Spike sipped his beer. “You’re an easy person to fall in love with.”

He was rewarded with a smile as she regarded him through her lashes. “You would say that,” she muttered. But he could see that she was pleased and he hid his grin behind another swallow of the yank-swill that the label on the bottle swore was a stout.

“Just speaking the truth, pet.” Her cheeks pinked up and he was glad that so far he’d been able to navigate the minefield he was walking through with her. He did feel sort of guilty over the fact that he didn’t feel more jealousy over this Satsu girl. Probably because she was a girl. If Buffy had been with a bloke named…whatever a Japanese guy would be called, he doubted he’d be so interested in hearing about it. Ugly truth, that. But he was learning something about Buffy he hadn’t known, a side of her he’d never suspected existed, and he wanted to find out about it, badly. There was no way he’d ever know everything that made her tick, but any clue was welcome.

Plus, he was going to be wanking to the idea of Buffy and a dark-haired girl writhing around together for the next little while, might as well get some details. Maybe Buffy had a picture somewhere? Er…on second thought, better not ask her that one.

“I only found out about Satsu liking me because of Amy,” Buffy said, setting her fork down and clutching her hands together in her lap.

“Amy?” he asked, trying to put a face to the name. “Wasn’t she a witch Willow hung around with for a while?”

Buffy laughed. “Way more history than that, I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you.”

That surprised him. He wondered why he’d never run into her.

“She was Willow’s pet rat for a long time.”

Christ, Sunnydale had been weird.

“Anyway, no-longer-a-rat-Amy ended up not being a good person. At all. She was part of an attack on the Slayers’ Scottish stronghold. Her role was to take me out of the fight, so she put me into a magically induced sleep. Complete with endless nightmares. Though she must not have known me at all.”

Buffy looked sad, as if an enemy not knowing her bothered her. “Why do you say that?” he asked. Their mostly uneaten food was rapidly cooling into unappetizing, congealed lumps.

“The nightmares were very generic for the most part. Scary monsters chasing me in the dark, that sort of thing. I mean, that’s my everyday reality. It’d be like having Joe-schmo dream about making toast.”

He finished his beer and set it on the table, but didn’t say anything. He doubted Buffy wanted sympathy for being a Slayer. It’d been a long time since he’d even heard her complain about her lot in life. She’d seemed to have made peace with it in the time they’d been apart. Good, that, he supposed.

“So there I was, trapped in my own head, and Amy apparently is a bigger weirdo than I thought because it was a sleeping beauty spell. For it to end, someone who loved me had to kiss me to wake me up.”

“What? Really?” Who the hell did that sort of fairy tale claptrap?

“Yup. I was even wearing a lacy nightgown. It was all so ridiculous.”

He nodded in agreement, though he wished he’d known. He would have given his left nut to be the one to ride in on a white horse and kiss her back to life. Then he’d cart her off, they’d ditch the horse, and he could give her the kind of kiss that left her all loose-limbed and panting in satisfaction.

“I wasn’t quite so asleep that I couldn’t hear the people around me.” Buffy’s face closed down and Spike shelved his fantasies. She needed him to be in the here and now.

Buffy stood up abruptly, her chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. Not even looking at him, she put her coat back on and left her partially eaten food on the table without a backward glance. She marched out into the winter night, her arms crossed over her chest.

Spike hurried after her and was relieved when she allowed him to wrap an arm around her waist. Tears were running silently down her face. “Luv?” he asked, softly as they negotiated the icy sidewalk, heading toward their flat.

“True love’s kiss,” she whispered. They were at their building, but Buffy stopped again. She looked up into his face and put a warm palm on his cheek. “I wanted…there, in the darkness of my own mind…I hoped…” Her face crumpled. “I needed it to be you.”

“Buffy,” he murmured. His heart ached and he mentally kicked his own ass one more time. He should have pretended to be Patrick Swayze in  _Ghost_ and annoyed sodding Angel until the git had broken down and called Buffy. Hindsight and all that. He gathered her against him and she hugged him tight, crying out old hurts. His own eyes were getting misty.

She’d needed him and he hadn’t been there.

Christ, he was nothing. How long before Buffy realized that and cast him aside? Tic-toc went the clock. Every minute with her was one closer to her ending things between them for good.

She gave a little hiccup.

He cursed himself again, he was falling down on his job. What he should be trying to do was make her feel better, not wallowing in his own misery. Maybe he could distract her. “I guess it was this Satsu that kissed you awake?”

“At the time I didn’t see her, but yes. There were soft lips on mine and I woke up with the taste of cinnamon on my tongue.” Buffy kept her face pressed against his neck. “I found out later when I asked for chapstick and she handed me hers and it was the same smell and taste. We were heading into a battle to rescue Willow, so it wasn’t the time for questions, but I just knew.” She took a deep breath. “I knew and it terrified me.”

“Cinnamon was her thing?” He asked, actually somewhat pleased she’d been scared of someone else feeling strongly for her, along with a pang of sympathy for Satsu. Loving Buffy wasn’t a walk in the park.

“Yeah, Satsu kind of smelled like a Cinnabon all the time.”

Buffy would have liked that. Cinnamon rolls drenched in icing were one of her favorites.

Spike touched Buffy’s cheek and it felt half frozen from her drying tears. He looked around at the piles of dirty grey snow. The city was tired, winter wearing it down. There was money sitting in their account and if he asked he was sure Rupert would give them whatever they needed with no questions asked. The berk felt guilty about how the Council had treated her for so long. Spike could take her away from this place.

Keeping ahold of her hand, he opened the door to the apartment building and led her inside and up the stairs. She followed without a word, maybe lost in thought.

“Think we could go somewhere for a couple weeks?” he asked. “I’m getting sick of Cleveland in January. And it’s nearly your birthday.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you want.” He silently begged her to say yes.

“Spain.”

That’d been easy. “I’ll make reservations tomorrow. And don’t think I don’t want to hear the rest of your story.”

To his surprise, Buffy smiled. “Sure, sometime. And in Spain will you show me all the cool places? I bet you know a few.”

She looked so young and for a moment he felt hideously old, but her enthusiasm was infectious. His worry about her kicking him aside evaporated. She wouldn’t do it while they were on a trip together. “A few,” he allowed.

Inside their apartment, she quickly shed her coat, leaving it and her muddy boots in a pile near the door. Her clothes quickly followed and she walked into the bathroom. The shower started a few seconds later.

That was his girl, she didn’t complain much about the cold, but as soon as they were home she was under the hot water. He loitered in the entryway, taking his time with his boots and contemplating having a cig out on the fire escape. Buffy could be in the shower for a while, letting the warmth soak in.

She opened the bathroom door and steam swirled out. “Are you going to get your ass in here, or what?” she asked with a pout.

Some things he didn’t need to be told twice.


	2. Screaming

 

I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain

               -Elton John, “Daniel”

****

Traveling in Spain was a somewhat different experience when you weren’t trying to munch on the population. Spike couldn’t stop his mind from picking out places that would be good hunting digs or keep from singling out the person in the crowd who would be his choice for dinner. It didn’t matter how much guilt and shame he felt over those thoughts, they simply refused to go away. He hated that he couldn’t simply turn them off, and hated even more how alone it made him feel.

It wasn’t like he could talk to Buffy about how twisted up he was inside over things like murdering people, or not murdering them, or…she just wouldn’t understand. She’d look at him with her patented Slayer expression of goodness and he’d be left feeling like he yet again needed to find a rock to scurry under like the insect he was.

While he kept mum about that load of rubbish, Buffy did help him out without even trying to. Simply holding her hand, like he was doing now, as they walked through the busy streets of Madrid, did wonders for his mood. She was having a great time playing tourist. Spike loved that he could see things through her eyes, she made everything that much more interesting and exciting.

While he’d slept that afternoon, she’d negotiated Madrid’s tube system—or whatever the locals called it—by herself to visit the Prado Museum. Spike didn’t think she’d suddenly become that interested in art and history, but instead that it made her feel closer to her mother. Joyce would have been ecstatic to be able to go. Initially, Spike had felt left out since he was stuck inside until the sun dipped below the horizon, but when Buffy had returned, she’d been on cloud nine. Not because she’d seen a bunch of paintings by long-dead masters, but because she’d managed to get there and back without getting lost. Spike’s grumpiness at being left behind vanished instantly. Buffy was so capable that he sometimes forgot something as basic as traveling around a foreign city was new and different for her.

He’d hugged her fiercely and dragged her out to get tapas. He’d picked one of the places that served something that was recognizable as food instead of a couple of unidentifiable squiggles on a cracker that cost an arm and a leg. Beer for him and a pitcher of sangria for her and they’d been set.

Afterwards, they’d lit out walking. Spike had tried to appear like he didn’t have an agenda and was picking streets at random, but he had a surprise for her and had steered her towards the right place. Knowing a bunch of fuddy-duddy Watchers did have its perks.

“Museo Na-na-“ Buffy frowned at the sign displaying the name of the building they were standing in front of. Spike looked heavenward. For someone who’d grown up in southern California, her Spanish pronunciation was bloody atrocious.

“El Reina,” Spike said. “The queen.”  

“It’s a museum of queens?”

“RuPaul has his own wing.”

She made a face at him.

“It’s an art museum, pet. Named after Spain’s current queen. A bit more modern than what you were looking at this afternoon.” He led her towards the side of the building.

“What are we doing here?”

“A friend of your Watcher’s works here, got us a private viewing.”

“A private viewing of what?”

“You’ll see.”

The Iberian version of Giles opened a maintenance door for them and, after glaring at Spike and apparently deciding he wasn’t about to initiate any riots, led him and Buffy through the dark and silent museum.

“Wait here,” the man said, pointing at the floor. “I’ll turn the lights on.” He returned a minute later. “Do not make me regret doing a favor for an old friend. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.” He stomped off.

“Any ideas where his office is?” Buffy stage-whispered to Spike.

“Not a one.” He turned and trotted into the lit gallery, but ignored the painting it housed. Instead, he waited and watched Buffy as she entered the stark white room. Her jaw dropped and she walked towards the single painting displayed as if mesmerized.

“I can’t remember the name,” she mumbled.

“Guernica, by Picasso.”

Her eyes swept from one side of the canvas to the other. “It’s huge.”

Spike almost couldn’t resist making a joke about that one, it was the perfect set up, but he kept his gob shut. She deserved to admire it without him adding in any lewd commentary.

There wasn’t any seating in the room, so he leaned his back against the far wall and slid down to sit on the linoleum floor.  Buffy shed her jacket, dropping it to the floor beside him, and then spent long minutes studying the painting, walking from one end of the gallery to the other. His eyes followed her. To him, she outshone any work of art.

At last, she came and sat down as well. His legs were stretched out and she settled herself between them, leaning her back against his front. Spike looped his arms around her waist.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“I like it.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Can you give me more than that?”

“Uh, sure. Well, I can’t put my finger on why, exactly, I like it, since it’s not pretty subject matter.” She tilted her head to the side. “It’s just…I can feel it, inside.” She paused. “Though I guess that sounds kind of silly.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s like the bloke captured not just the horror of war, but also the way our minds scream at us. It makes it feel personal instead of just being a remote depiction of something awful that happened far away.”

“Yeah, that.”

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in. The trip had been wonderful so far. The constant worry he carried that she was about to run had ebbed. Though just thinking about it made his arms tighten around her. Maybe they could travel forever and she’d never have time to stop and think about a future that didn’t include him. One with daylight, babies, and no monsters skulking about in the shadows.

But, damn it, he wasn’t Angel. He wouldn’t walk away, not until the day she told him to. Not that she hadn’t asked him to before, a million times, back in Sunnydale, but this time he’d listen. The blasted soul would make sure of that.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve seen it.” She slid her hands down his arms until she could interlace her fingers with his.

“I saw it in America years ago. It was in New York for a long time.”

“Really? In the U.S.?”

“Picasso painted it in France, but it’s spent most of its existence stateside. He didn’t want it to return to Spain until the country was free from the git who started the war in the first place.”

“That makes sense.” She dropped her head back against Spike’s shoulder. “Were you here, during the war?”

Fear banded around him. “Yes,” he said tersely as images of things he rather forget rattled around inside his noggin. Bloody hell, why did she have to remind herself that he had been…was a monster.

Buffy was silent for a moment, but then she sighed and pulled herself out of his arms. He braced himself for the pain of her moving away, which was what she usually did when she became uncomfortable with something he’d done or said.

It surprised him when, instead, she wiggled around so she was on her knees and facing him. “Why do you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?” he replied cautiously. He couldn’t read her look. He didn’t think she was mad, exactly.

Buffy cupped his cheek with her hand. “Shut me out.”

“What?” He was completely confused. If there was anyone who did any shutting out, it was her.

“Spike, I know what you are, and I have a darn good idea of what you’ve done. When I ask a thing like that, I’m not asking for some blow by blow recounting of a dinner…date that you had with Drusilla. I’m trying to get to know you, to share a tiny part of your past.”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to, not really. I have the soul, screaming at me day and night, letting me know that a single death at my hands made me unworthy of standing at your side. And there was a sodding lot more than one. You get one good glimpse of all that ugly and you’re not going to want to be in the same country as me.”

“Oh, Spike.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his and her arms went around his neck. “No…I…god…you think I’m going to leave, don’t you?”

Fuck. There it was. In black and white, just like the buggering painting.

His mouth drew into a grimace as his eyes skittered away from hers. “Yes.”

“Not happening.”

He lost the battle with himself and his hands tangled in her hair, holding her in place as a sob escaped his throat.

“I’m not leaving you. And I don’t expect you to be anyone other than the guy I fell in love with.” She gently extricated herself from his grip, kissed his eyelids, and dropped back into her earlier position, sitting so she could see the painting and reclining against his chest. “Let’s try this again, this time with more cowbell and less wigging about how I’m going to ditch you.”

Spike swallowed around the lump in his throat. Christ, he still had no idea what he was doing when it came to her. Never had, probably never would. “Right,” he managed.

“So, what was Spain like back then?”

He played with the ends of her hair with one hand. “Different. Its history was closer to the surface. The place felt old, not all slick and shiny with a few rough patches here and there where the bones show through.”

“Was the war terrible?”

He leaned his head back against the wall and looked at Picasso’s depiction of screaming animals, women, and children. “Yes, but I didn’t know it at the time. Was just a bunch of jolly fun for a vamp. Fear and death around every corner. I could…” he trailed off.

“It’s okay. Whatever you going to say, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Thousands of clergy members disappeared during the war. I could take Dru to a convent and let her have a gay old time. I’d drink my fill and listen to the news or music on the radio while she dispatched the rest of the sisters. Before morning we could dump the bodies down a dark hole and no one would even go looking, thinking the Republican boys had got ‘em.” He shuddered. _Sorry_ , he told the dead. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_

Buffy snuggled against him and kissed his neck. “Stop beating yourself up. You at least had the excuse of being a vampire. What was the one the ‘Republican boys’, as you called them, used?”

There wasn’t an answer for that one. He didn’t understand human evil. “Nationalists were worse. Called in the Nazis to help. That was who did the bombing of Guernica that Picasso made the picture of.”

“Nazis. I hate those guys,” Buffy said in her best Indiana Jones voice.

He chuckled. “Yeah, me too. I did eat one and steal his coat.”

To his surprise, Buffy laughed. “Glad you’re not still wearing it.”

“It would be a might hard to explain nowadays, what with the swastika on the sleeve and all.”

“It’s weird, how much I don’t know about you. Like, I know the parts that matter, but you’ve lived for ever and done so much…I must seem very boring.”

Spike kissed the side of her head. “You? Never. You keep me on my toes, luv.”

She snorted and he slid his arms around her waist again.

“Like that Satsu girl. Didn’t see that one coming.”

Buffy groaned. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“To anything but me.”

“Fine, if you’re sure you want me blabbing on about myself.”

“It’s my favorite subject,” he said with a chuckle.

Buffy patted his leg. “Then let’s get off the floor and find a café or something. I could go for some caffeine goodness right about now.”

They rose, Buffy reclaimed her coat, and they found their own way out of the museum, neither of them having a clue where the curator’s office was. Once back on the busy streets, it didn’t take them long to find a late-night spot and claim a back booth. It was a local place, a real dive with faded football jerseys tacked to the walls, posters advertising events from ten years ago, and a TV set that was older than Buffy.

Spike ordered a beer, but Buffy was able to get her coffee, which she was clutching with both hands.

After a few sips, she found her voice. “Satsu was one of my best fighters.”

Spike took a chug of his drink, hoping to hide his flash of jealousy because of course the chit would be. Buffy apparently had a type.

“After I got over being wigged out that she liked me, it started to annoy me, because she didn’t say anything.”

Spike drummed his fingers on the table. “You didn’t have to wonder with her, did you, if her feeling were real?”

“She couldn’t have broken the spell otherwise, but, yes, no one had ever whispered in my ear that Slayers aren’t able to love, only—” Buffy held up her hand as he opened his mouth. “Think about what she’d been told her whole life. That she was wrong for loving girls. That it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.”

Oh. He frowned. He’d never considered that side of things before.

“Anyway, we were patrolling together, and I flat out asked her if she liked me. Of course, she couldn’t deny it. And then…” Buffy shrugged, her expression pained. “I slept with her.”

He held up a hand. “Wait, go back. You’re missing a lot of parts in there.” He so wasn’t letting her wriggle off the hook on this one.

“I shouldn’t have done it.” She set her coffee mug down hard on the table.

He tilted his head but she was staring down at her hands, her face expressionless. “Why not?”

“She loved me and I didn’t love her. You think I would have learned that lesson.”

His chest tightened and he reached across the table to grasp Buffy’s hand.

“I told her I wasn’t in love with her and she didn’t care.”

He ran his fingers over Buffy’s knuckles. Fuck. Now he was sympathizing with Satsu. “I know that feeling.”

“Only with you…I was lying to myself.”

His fingers spasmed around hers. He had to take a deep breath to keep from crawling across the table and mauling her. There was time enough for that later when she wasn’t busy baring her soul to him.

“What I don’t get, pet, is why you wanted to sleep with her at all. Were you just curious?”

Buffy took her hand back and cradled her coffee cup. “It’s more complicated than that. Satsu wasn’t some science experiment. After Sunnydale…after—” Her eyes darted away to stare at the faded bullfighting posters on the wall, but Spike could still hear the unspoken ‘you’. “After, I hadn’t had the hots for any guy. I sort of thought maybe I was like Willow, y’know?”

He very badly wished he could hug the past her that’d been hurting and lost. Damn the amulet, and Angel, and his bloody fucking self that hadn’t been with her.

One of Buffy’s fingers traced a line of old graffiti cut into the wood of the table. “Satsu was cute, but there wasn’t that toe-curling feeling I get when a hot guy takes off his shirt. I don’t know. This is kind of weird to talk to you about.”

“Thank you for doing it, Buffy. It means a lot to me.” He smiled at her.

She gave him a tiny smile in return and ducked her head. “I don’t want to go into details or compare notes or anything, but it was really nice, being with her. And I liked kissing her. Her lips were soft and she tasted like cinnamon. But…there wasn’t much sparkage when the clothes came off. At least not on my part. It made me feel pretty lame and she did most of the work and…and…I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never fantasized about doing that stuff to another girl. You have to think I’m the biggest dolt.”

He made a line in the condensation on his beer glass. There was his Buffy, always worried she didn’t measure up sexually. Spike paused before he answered, taking a moment to enjoy a brief fantasy of his own that involved him wrapping an electrical cord around Angel’s neck. The bugger had done a hell of a number on the girl.

“No, not at all,” he said. “There are lots of reasons people have sex. You and me? We get each other hot under the collar with barely any effort.” A tiny, pink blush colored her cheeks. “But for lots of couples, that’s not how it is. Even ones that love each other.”

Buffy’s brow creased.

Spike felt like he needed to clearly spell out what he was getting at. “Don’t try fitting your sexuality into a neat box that has a label on it. It doesn’t need one. Plenty of girls say they like guys and don’t want to look lower than a man’s shoulders.”

Buffy giggled. “I don’t think I fit that group.”

“Not so much.”

She did some remarkable things to his cock with her lips, tongue, hands…

“And how do you know I don’t fit a label? Maybe I’m bisexual.”

“Could be.” He didn’t want to mention he’d never once caught her checking out some bint’s rack, but there were all kinds that fit under that umbrella, weren’t there? “I should point out that thinking a girl is nice looking isn’t quite the same as wanting to shag her. But perhaps you just need to get to know a chit first and the sex part comes after?” He looked over the rim of his beer glass at Buffy, whose nose was wrinkled up.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I feel like… no, I’m sure I could have a romantic relationship with a woman or a guy. I don’t think that I’d exclude anyone from the possibility of a long-term relationship—if I wasn’t already in one—because of their gender, but I’d really rather watch the men’s diving team during the Olympics than the women’s.”

Spike nearly choked on his beer and ended up coughing and laughing into his sleeve.

“But Satsu,” Buffy continued, obviously not worried that he might actually be choking, “I think I mostly needed to know I was still someone who could be loved.”

Spike sobered instantly. “Buffy—”

“As I said, I knew better. I seem to need to make the same mistake more than once for it to sink in.” She sighed. “I almost made another one with Satsu. You’ll recognize it…I asked her not to tell anyone.” Buffy’s face fell.

“Kitten,” he said, taking her hand again.

Buffy’s shoulders shook and for a moment he thought she was crying, but then she looked up with a shit-eating-grin on her face and he figured out she was giggling. That was good, he hoped. “Fate totally did not let me get away with that one,” Buffy said around her laughter. “Satsu barely had time to agree before Xander burst into the room.”

Bloody hell. Xander had seen Buffy and Satsu naked in bed together? It was a wonder the berk wasn’t in a padded cell somewhere. Spike was fairly certain his own brain would have dribbled out his ear.

Wait.

“Just because? Was Xander in the habit of walking into your bedroom at any old time?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “There were vampires, they stole the Scythe. And you can put your bumpies away now, though I’m surprised your eyes still turned yellow and not green.”

Oh, bloody hell. Spike managed to get his demon to recede. He surreptitiously looked around, but he and Buffy were secluded in the back of the joint and no one seemed to have noticed his slip.

“It wasn’t just Xander, either,” Buffy added. “There was another Slayer with him, Renee. They sort of dated before she died. And Andrew.”

“Would have been wasted on that one.”

“Spike!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Not so much. Oh, and Dawn. Though she was still gigantic, so she was looking in through the window.”

“Your sister? Fate really did have it out for you.”

Buffy huffed, but then she laughed again. “It’s funny now, but at the time I was mortified. I was freaking out, there were all these people…and then Willow crashed through the roof.”

“Please tell me somebody put on the theme to Benny Hill.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “To top the whole thing off, I had to fight the vamps in my Disney pajamas—the ones with Eeyore on the leg— and they managed to get away with the Scythe anyway. It wasn’t fair. They turned into panthers.”

“Studied with Drac, did they?”

Buffy nodded.

“Stupid bunch of sodding party tricks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Buffy was frowning angrily at the dregs of her coffee. He knew just how she felt. Remembering when you’d lost a battle was never a picnic, but he had just the cure.

“Fancy going to look for something to slay?”

“God, yes.”


	3. Square

Chapter 3: Square

Quiero tenerte muy cerca

               -Consuelo Velazquez, “Besame Mucho”

 

****

Buffy had wanted Spain’s history, so they’d left the capital and gone south to Sevilla.

She’d been blown away.

He’d always expected she was more than a little in love with the past, her own—before being called and especially before Angelus—most of all but he couldn’t fault her. Nostalgia was a beautiful thing.

They’d holed up in an ancient hotel with narrow staircases and tiny rooms. Even the furnishings looked like they might have survived several world wars. Buffy found the worn rugs and lumpy bed charming. Even the fact that they shared a single bathroom with everyone else on the floor didn’t faze her.

He did like the faded orange paint on the room’s walls, and the enameled washbasin tucked into the corner behind the door made him feel like he’d run into an old friend.

That morning, as he’d settled down on the squeaky, metal-framed bed to rest, Buffy had set out with a couple different destinations in mind. She’d come back at noon, waking him as she’d marched into the room and slammed the door behind her.

“Luv?” he’d asked, groggy and hoarse with sleep.

“I missed you,” she’d said, her hands tugging her shirt up and over her head. Her jeans had hit the floor a moment later. He’d been wide awake by that point. “I was having fun, poking around that Spanish Plaza place and all of a sudden I couldn’t stand that you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” he’d murmured. Damn it. He couldn’t even show his girl around properly when the sun was up. “I’ll take you back tonight so you can have a better look.”

Buffy had swiped at her eyes. “I don’t care about some stupid plaza or whatever time of the day it is. I just needed you.” She’d lifted the corner of the bed’s bright yellow blanket and slipped up under, wiggling over until she was flush against him. “I was looking at all the pretty stuff one second and I was fine, then the next minute I missed you so much I thought I might keel over from it.”

Spike hadn’t said a word, just bowled her over and pressed his lips to hers.

That’d been a while ago. Late afternoon sun was leaking in around the edges of the curtains, the light a buttery yellow color even though it was winter.  Under Spike’s back, the springs of the bed were creaking and the headboard was rapping in an obscene rhythm against the wall as Buffy rode him into rapture.

His hands outlined her curves, caressing skin slick with sweat. Her hair was a tangled mess from his fingers and her lips were swollen from his kisses.

She was gorgeous.

He gripped her thighs as she groaned through another orgasm, but—bless her—she didn’t stop swiveling her hips until he’d joined her in bliss. She collapsed forward and lay, panting, on top of him. He snagged the blanket and drew it over them to keep her warm. The hotel’s heating system wasn’t exactly up to snuff.

They were always so good at this, speaking with their bodies. It’d been nearly the first thing they’d done after the battle in L.A. They’d both ended up in the remains of a burnt-out office building, covered in blood and dirt. He’d been trying to figure out what to say while Buffy had been standing there, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

“You were in Rome,” he’d started lamely.

“Decoy,” she’d spat.

“Oh.”

She’d taken a step forward and for a moment he thought she might stake him, but then she was in his arms, sobbing and sloppily kissing him. Her hands had been on his face, his back, his shoulders, his chest, his ass. Then they’d unbuckled his belt.

“Buffy,” he’d whispered. “Are you sure?”

She’d looked into his eyes. “I love you.”

Nothing in the universe could have kept him from shagging her at that moment.

The icing on the cake had been waking up later to find her dressed in nothing but his duster and arguing with Angel. She’d been livid, her posture one of fury as she’d poked the git in the chest with a finger.

“Of course I’m angry,” she said. “You knew I was grieving and you kept him from me. And you know what? I’m done. Ding! The timer’s gone off and I’m chocolate chip, or gingersnap, or oatmeal with raisins. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Except that you won’t be the one eating me.”

She’d been too brassed off to connect the dots on her double entendre, but he hadn’t missed it, and while Angel had slipped into the shadows, he hadn’t actually left until Spike had rolled Buffy onto her back, spread her thighs, and put his head between them to demonstrate to the berk exactly who was going to be eating her goodies.

Months of bliss had followed. They’d been so high on each other that the world outside each other’s bodies had hardly existed. Giles had sent them to guard the Cleveland hellmouth, which wasn’t quite up to Sunnydale scale, and they’d done little but fight and fuck until real life had gradually started to sift back in.

Buffy had stuck a wet towel under his nose one day and griped at him. He’d snapped at her when he’d broken a glass, again, because she insisted on leaving them balanced precariously on the thin strip of flat metal between the sink basins instead of in one of them. There were bills, grocery shopping, disagreements on what TV shows to watch, just endless amounts of everyday minutia.

Minutia he had no idea how to handle. He knew bugger all about having a human life, a fact Buffy reminded him of with some frequency, most often unintentionally by simply being very human herself.

The worse part was that neither of them were great at talking things out, so little things could bend and twist until they were great big things by the time they got brought up. Or he couldn’t read her and would end up reeling from something she said, only to figure out a week later she didn’t even remember the conversation and hadn’t meant whatever she said in the way he’d taken it.

Finally, Spike had realized she was going to be done with him sooner or later, even if she loved him. Since that thought had taken root in his mind several months ago, he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to hand him his walking papers.

Though this trip—which had been a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself—and this time together had started to give him hope.

“What ya thinking about?” Buffy asked, kissing his chin.

He nearly brushed off her question by saying “you” or kissing her again. Only he stopped himself. That was the kind of thing he’d usually do. The kind of thing that led to his gut clenching every time Buffy frowned.

“Do you really want to know?” he said instead.

Buffy put a loosely clenched fist on his chest and propped her chin on it. “Yeah, I do. I know I’m the one who’s terrible at being all talky, but I’ve been trying to do better.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve noticed, thank you.” Buffy looked pleased and he took a breath. It felt a bit like he was making a confession in church. “I’m still scared.”

Her brow creased. “That I’m going to leave you?”

“Yeah. I’m bloody terrified of it. I don’t know what I’m doing. With Drusilla, I was her caretaker, yeah? And she wanted the big bad. Didn’t have to worry about getting the right brand of toothpaste or putting the forks in the right place in the drawer. Now…I’m doing my best, but I seem to muck up more than I get right. I’m sorry, luv. I’m trying to figure out how to be your partner, not your servant.”

Buffy leaned forward and kissed his chin again. “I’m sorry, too. I’m really not the best at this relationship stuff. I guess I figured I’d get a few grand gestures and be in the ground before all the day-to-day part of spending a life together started. Instead, I got what I always dreamed of: a normal life.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“An apartment, a boyfriend—that’s you, if you were worried—a job I work routine hours at that I get a paycheck for. That job might be slaying, but it’s a lot more routine in Cleveland than Sunnydale. No annual apocalypse. I own furniture from Ikea and drink wine out of a box. It’s normal…and I have zero idea what I’m doing. I really didn’t think I’d live long enough to settle down somewhere with someone.”

“Technically, I’m not a—”

“Don’t finish that thought. To me you’re not just someone, you’re _the_ someone.”

He thought his chest was going to burst from the sheer amount of emotion he was trying to contain.

“My point is we’re both muddling along and figuring it out as we go. And we both need to get better at saying what we’re thinking so things don’t get all festery.” She tilted her head slightly. “It’s actually good to know that you’ve been all weird because you thought I’d dump you. You’ve been walking on eggshells lately and I thought you were mad at me and I didn’t know what I’d done.”

Spike winced and shook his head. “I’m a wanker, kitten.”

“It’s both our faults. So no blame-y. Either one of us could have said something.” She pouted. “And I can’t guarantee everything’s going to be magically amazing and awesome between us and I won’t do anything stupid just because we’re making with more talkage. Remember when I told you that it can take me a bunch of times to learn a lesson when it comes to emotional stuff?”

“Yeah, do recall.”

“Well, even though I know better, a lot of the time I don’t want to tell you something because I’m trying to protect you, mostly from my motherlode of emotional baggage. And sometimes I probably end up hurting you more with silence than if I shared whatever stupid thing was bugging me.”

He traced the curve of her lower lip with a finger. “That does sound like the voice of experience.”

“Yup, and…” she trailed off. “I almost did it again. Tried to be avoidy girl.” She looked at the window, where the winter light was quickly fading. “How about we get dressed and go back to that plaza place and I’ll tell you about trying to protect someone because I thought it was the best thing for her when it was really the best thing for me.”

****

The Plaza de España was brightly lit and they were hardly the only tourists milling around, even if the air was decidedly nippy.

Buffy was wearing one of the many jackets she’d brought on the trip, but when a gust of wind still had her shivering, he stopped and pulled her into a hug and used his duster to help keep away the chill. They were standing beside one of the canals, the black water reflecting the electric lights.

“I told you that you should bring a hat,” Spike said and Buffy huffed. “Lucky for you, I snuck one into my pocket when you weren’t looking.” He pulled out a black beanie and slid it over her head. “Better?”

She let out a sigh, but it was contented rather than grumpy. “Much.” Buffy snuggled into his embrace and he felt the same elation he always did when she was affectionate in public.

“Did you know this place isn’t even as old as me?” he asked her, petting her back.

“Really? I figured it’d been here forever.”

“Well, 1929 probably sounds like forever ago to you, but I’d been turned nearly fifty years by then.”

Buffy bit her lip. “Weird.”

“Time just slides away. I keep turning around and finding everything has changed.”

“Opposite of me, huh? I’m like one of those maybe flies.”

“Mayflies? Not if I have anything to say about it, pet.”

She nuzzled against his chest. “You might not have a say, but you make me feel safe and loved, both things I like.”

Spike tangled the fingers of one hand in the ends of her hair. “I try, Buffy.”

“You do. More than you know.” She glanced up at him. “Should I tell you my story?”

“Sure.” She settled her head against his chest again and he looked out at the dark water, his eyes skating over the still surface.

“We—the slayers—had to go to Japan to get the Scythe back. The vampires we were chasing killed one of the local slayers before we even got there and strung her up as a warning.”

Christ, Buffy would have torn herself in two over that.

“I cut her down,” she said flatly.

“You’re a good leader.”

Buffy was silent for a moment as the wind rattled the bare branches of one of the trees that lined the canal.

“I like it best when I don’t have to be,” she finally whispered. “Anyway, there was a big fight coming and the Japanese slayers weren’t all ready for it. Someone needed to stay with them and be ready to defend the compound if necessary.”

“You picked Satsu.”

“Yup, I told my best warrior to sit out the mega-important fight.”

Spike couldn’t have asked for better proof that Buffy had harbored some feelings for the chit. “You did love her, then?”

“Not like you’re thinking. She just…she was someone I was with and someone else I could lose. I couldn’t watch her die. I was still having nightmares then, nearly every night, of being in that dumb cave and watching you burn and my heart along with you.”

He couldn’t respond, it was a pain he knew too well. For months, he’d had a front row seat to her hitting the ground after jumping. He still occasionally woke up barking out her name as he tried to reach her body but couldn’t because of the sun. At least now she was there when he awoke, real and solid under his palms and very much alive.

“What did Satsu do?” he asked.

“Got pissed.”

“That’s what I’d do. You couldn’t keep me from fighting at your side, especially not if there was a bloody big one. I’d go barmy.”

Buffy sighed. “And, much like you, she completely didn’t listen to me. Told me to my face I was being stupid and she was coming along. She took off before I could come up with a way to argue with her.”

“Smart move.”

“Yeah, I let her go, but that was the start of the end for us. I let her fume about me being overprotective instead of doing what I should have and going and talking to her. I could have told her about you and why I was terrified of her getting so much as a scratch. I think she thought I was just being unreasonable and didn’t trust her skills.”

“She thought you’d turned into Riley?”

Buffy giggled. “She would have looked good dressed up as a 50s housewife, but unfortunately, yeah, pretty much.”

“Bit different, though, innit? I’m going to assume you at least didn’t start smelling of cow.”

“What? Riley didn’t smell like cow.”

He sniffed, to remind her of his vastly superior nose.

“He didn’t, did he?”

“Nah, just like freshly minted jerk. It’s sort of similar to new car.”

Buffy laughed again. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You probably shouldn’t let me out in public.”

“That’s a given.” She stepped back and took his hand before turning to walk with him along the plaza’s canal. “Later that night, after my fight with Satsu, there was a knock at my door. I thought it’d be her, but it was Willow.”

“Red’s a good friend, you should ask her to come visit when we get back.” Willow and Buffy talked frequently on the phone, but it’d been a while since the witch had come to crash on their couch.

“Totally, maybe in the spring and we can hit up the Easter sales. But that night, when she came to see me, we hadn’t been talking much. Not for a while. Actually, we sort of hadn’t been close since high school, but especially when I got kind of weird over her dating Tara. Which, looking back, was really dumb of me, Willow was still Willow. Geez, being a friend isn’t easy… and now we're back to Buffy not being good with the normal.”

He squeezed her fingers. “From my end of things, you’ve always looked like a brilliant friend. Was one of the first things I learned about you: Buffy Summers has friends and family.”

“And now you’re both.”

He grinned. “Means the world to hear you say that.”

Her expression became shy. “Back to Willow, before I melt into a puddle of goo right here because of how much I love you.”

“We’d be matching goo puddles.”

“Hush. Where was I? Willow.” Buffy’s eyes were definitely soft, so he didn’t feel bad at being shushed.

“Willow,” he agreed.

“She marched into my room and said: “We need to talk.” Which of course freaked me out. I thought she was mad at me, but she just wanted to have a discussion about Satsu, mostly because she thought I was hurting her. Which I was.” Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “It was you, all over again, only without the confusing love feelings. I was running away from grief and I was using how she felt about me to make myself feel better.”

Buffy stopped walking and let him go in order to use both her hands to grip the top of the stone railing that separated the path from the canal.

“I almost wish Willow had been mad, but instead she was just understanding. She did ask me about how I ended up in a relationship with a girl and mostly I had the same nonanswer I told you. It just kind of happened.”

“What did Willow say to that?”

“Sort of what you did. That I didn’t need to put a label on anything. I asked her how she knew she was gay.”

“Tell me this dissolved into a pillow fight.”

Buffy made a face at him. “It’s a good thing I know you’re kidding.”

He was?

“Willow said she didn’t know that’s what she was at first. That it was really confusing because she’d been with Oz and had loved him deeply, but that she was very physically attracted to Tara. Like she couldn’t stop thinking about the curve of her neck or the point of her ankle. And Tara turned out to be the most wonderful person. And now Willow doesn’t think about guys or guy parts. They don’t make her tingly, she doesn’t dream about them.”

“What if Oz came back?”

“I actually asked her that, and she said she’d want to be his friend again, but not his girlfriend, because she’d feel wrong, like she was denying a part of herself.”

“She’s not kidding around about being a lesbian, is she?”

“Nope. And it made me feel way terrible. I told Willow I felt bad because Satsu’s all girl all the way, too, and I’m just not. I mean, when I was with her in bed I wasn’t like ‘Where’s the penis?’ or even felt as if I was missing something…but I do kind of like them.”

“I and my penis are very glad to hear that, pet.”

Buffy was still standing at the rail, so Spike took a smoke from his pocket and lit it.

She was blushing neon red. “I like your penis a lot. It’s a nice penis.”

He snorted. “I love it when you talk dirty.” Though if she kept mentioning his penis, it was going to want to come out and play.

“When I told Willow I was a thousand percent sure I wasn’t like her but that I understood her better now because I had enjoyed being with Satsu, and that I really shouldn’t have been weirded out back in our freshman year of college, Willow started crying. She stayed the whole night with me and gave me some advice on what to do with a girl in bed. But we also just talked and talked about all kinds of stuff, and I realized I’d forgiven her for bringing me back after Glory, but that she hadn’t forgiven herself, and we cried over that. And then we talked some more until we were both too exhausted to say another word. It was nice. I felt like I got my friend back.”

Spike let out a stream of smoke into the cold night air. He was genuinely happy for her. She needed her friends more than she liked to admit.

“I also knew, after talking to Willow, that Satsu and I were going to break up. Willow was right. It was all kinds of not good for either of us, but I…I liked that the not good part had nothing to do with her being a girl. Like how I feel good about that when you and I have a disagreement it’s just because we’re both stubborn and nothing to do with me being a Slayer and you a vampire.”

He blinked. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” But Buffy was right. The stuff they snipped at each other about was, well, boringly normal stuff. That once insurmountable divide between them had been worn down to nothing. He put a hand on her shoulder and had her turn so he could see her face. “Buffy, it is neat we fight about how to squeeze the bloody tube of toothpaste or what kind of bulb to put in the hallway light, but I need to know it’s okay to have those fights. That you aren’t going to get sodding tired of me bringing home the wrong brand of bagels or whatnot and be done with me. I need to know it’s bloody alright to mess up.”

She put a hand on his cheek and he flicked away the butt of his cig. He probably shouldn’t litter, but now wasn’t the moment for searching out an ashtray. “Spike, I can tell you with absolute certainty that us bickering, arguing, or downright screaming at each other isn’t going to make me not want you around.”

“Luv.” He bowed his head to kiss her, but she held up her hand.

“I need the same promise from you. I can be downright bitchy sometimes.”

He frowned at her.

“It’s not like I don’t know that. I’m aware I can be cranky and difficult to be around, but I want to know you won’t give up on me when I am. And you can totally call me on it.” She looked wry. “Just…don’t give up on me.”

“Never.”

He finally managed to catch her lips with his and she gripped his upper arms tight as she kissed him back.

After a moment, she broke the kiss and pushed herself away from him, but only a teeny bit. “We should just get takeout for dinner and go back to the hotel.”

“My penis approves of this plan.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled her camera out of her pocket. “But we have to get another tourist to take pictures of us here first. This place was in one of those movies Andrew likes and he’ll flip knowing we got to visit it.”

“Oh, well, if it’s for Andrew.”

“Play nice.”

He chuckled. “You hate when I do that.”


	4. Nighttime

Tu I jo I la nostra història

               -Manel, “Al Mar”

****

Sunny Spain was not living up to its name.

Spike didn’t much care one way or the other what the obnoxious yellow ball in the sky did, as long as it wasn’t shining on him, but it would have been nice for Buffy’s sake if it had at least peeped out from behind the clouds. As it was, the rain and chill had kept both the tourists and locals out of Barcelona’s streets during the day. Now that it was dark, nearly everywhere was deserted.

And while it wasn’t currently raining, it was damp and sodding cold enough that even the coppers were off somewhere keeping warm, meaning Buffy and he had Barcelona’s famous beaches to themselves. The waves were lapping gently at the shore and Buffy was walking along the strand, bundled up in a jacket, hat, and scarf while a nearly full moon played hide and seek in the clouds overhead.

Spike was puffing on a cig while leaning against something that passed for art, which looked like four wooden blocks with windows stacked haphazardly together. It had a few lights and some random ocean-related kitsch in the lowest block that wasn’t much to look at. The whole thing was called something like ‘The Shooting Star,’ though hell if he knew why.

On the beach, a wave rolled in that was bigger than the others, making Buffy yip as she raced out of its way, and then laugh at her own antics.

Spike smiled. She was happy and he’d given that to her. His world felt right. He was more than a little aware it was what he’d done for decades with Dru, that trying to provide—or, bloody hell, be—what the one he loved needed was a deep-seated part of his own psyche, that the flat-out truth of it was that he was happiest when he could make another happy. It was a familiar groove in his own mind and while he knew Buffy would tell him he should be worried more about his own desires, right now doing this for her was a comforting blanket he could pull around himself while they worked through whatever the hell it was they’d been slowly tackling the last little while.

The talking was long overdue and it was nice, and buggering scary as fuck.

Closing his eyes, Spike leaned his head against the side of the sculpture and just…existed, in the sound of the waves, the feel of the breeze from the sea and the scent of salt it carried, the chill of the night air, the taste of his cigarette on his tongue and the faint heat of it in his lungs, and the sweet, vague sense that was Buffy as she ran beside the ocean. She was headed back towards him now, her heartbeat growing louder.

He didn’t open his eyes, but dropped the butt of his smoke and ground it out under his heel. He liked to think he’d remember to pick it up later, but probably he’d just forget and think about it three days from now and feel guilty about littering.

Buffy paused several feet away, and he imagined her standing and drinking in the lights of the city contrasting against the endless dark of the sea. Drusilla had loved places like this, where the eternity of nature butted up against the ephemerality of mortal man.

Something that was freezing cold, rubbery, and stunk like old fish slapped against his cheek.

Spike’s eyes flew open as he peeled a piece of seaweed off his face. Buffy, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth, was giggling at him.

His heart made for his throat, but also his demon for his face. He snarled at her and she, still laughing, turned and fled. Every predator instinct he had flashed into high alert. Chase, catch, have…but not kill. Taste didn’t seem entirely off the menu, however.

Buffy didn’t run far, or hard, and seemed quite amiable to being captured. He wrapped her in a bear hug and swung her around as she squealed. The instant her feet touched sand her lips were on his and he pushed the demon back so he could kiss her with abandon. She had her hands on his face, her palms loving as they caressed him.

At last, she broke the kiss. “There you are,” she said, still slightly breathless. “You looked so far away.”

He scooped her up and her arms went around his neck. “Not so far, was just enjoying the night with senses besides sight.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, looking faintly embarrassed. He sat on a bench that faced the ocean, Buffy a welcome, warm weight on his lap and against his chest.

He stroked her cheek. “Don’t be.”

“What—” She bit her lip. “What were you thinking about?”

The question didn’t scare him like it would have less than a month ago.

“A bunch of existentialist bullshit about the sea and moon, some about you—that part wasn’t shit—and a little about Dru.”

Buffy’s face grew serious. Spike sighed. He should have stopped with the ‘about you’ part. He might have just thrown open a door he really didn’t want to walk through because it’d let Buffy see all the ugliness still squirming around inside him.

She’d said it wouldn’t make her leave, only knowing about something and actually being witness to it were two different things.

“You still love her,” Buffy said at last. It wasn’t a question.

Damn, no getting out of this. “Yeah.”

Buffy caught his chin in her hand and studied his face. “Don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell. Do you ever wish that you’d never come to Sunnydale?”

He didn’t actually know the answer. “Not straightforward, that one. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I hadn’t—”

“No, wait. I didn’t ask the right question. It would have been easier if I’d never been called and was busy right now trying to make my way in some low-level position while going out with the girls on Friday nights and remembering how popular I was as a cheerleader, but easy doesn’t mean better. I meant…I meant more…do you wish I was Drusilla, sometimes?”

The growl that ripped through him was involuntary. “No!” he nearly shouted before getting ahold of himself. Buffy looked confused rather than scared, which was a relief.

“Spike?”

“Christ.” He scrunched down until he could press his face against her neck, needing the comfort of his skin on hers. “Look…I don’t think I know how to fall out of love. I love Dru, probably always will, but I don’t ever wish I was with her instead of you. I spent so many years with her and I gave her so much. I ripped myself apart, again and again, to be what she needed and to make her happy, and in the end, I did what I had to do to keep her safe and she threw me away like I was nothing. We had some rip-roaring good times together. I fooled myself into thinking we were special, eternal…and it still fucking hurts she didn’t think the same.”

Buffy was making soothing noises and circling her fingers against the nape of his neck.

“Should have known,” he said. “But it was always so easy to forget she wasn’t mine. That Angelus had only to snap his fingers and she’d come running. God, no different than now, is it?” He straightened up so he could see her face, which was still stamped with puzzlement.

“Huh?” she said, nose wrinkling.

“Angel,” Spike said since she seemed not to get it. “The bloody giant, broody elephant in the room.”

“And again, huh?”

He huffed. “You can’t be with him because of the damned curse, don’t you think I’m aware of that? Yeah, you chose me because there’s not a choice, and I’m very good at making do with what I have, but are you going to tell me if he came strolling across the bloody sand right now to tell you he got that pesky slippery soul anchored, that you wouldn’t be running to him?”

Buffy’s arm drew back and her fist flew for Spike’s face. He flinched, but the blow never landed.

“Oh god,” she cried, scrambling off him. “I’m sorry, Spike. I…I’m sorry.” Her mouth was hanging open and she was staring at her own hand as if it’d betrayed her. A few shuddering breaths shook her. “Sorry,” she said again and crossed her arms before turning away from him and starting to walk off.

Spike sat there, watching her go. She was so small and hunched, and if she didn’t want him…fuck. She wasn’t mad at him. He sprinted after her, catching up with her just as the sky opened up and rain began to fall. Buffy didn’t say anything, but she dropped her arms to dangle at her sides and he grasped her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers fiercely.

Back at their hotel, which was much more generic than anywhere else they’d stayed and had a charming view of the brick side of the building next door, he stripped off his wet clothes while Buffy went into the bathroom to do the same. He gave up on redressing and crawled between the scratchy white sheets of the bed, not sure what else to do.

How royally had he fucked up by mentioning Angel? Had all the progress he’d thought they’d been making gone right out the blasted window?

Buffy, wearing pink cotton panties and bra, came out of the bathroom toweling off her hair. She dropped the towel on the floor, clicked off the light, climbed into bed, and laid down on her back as stiff as a board.

“Buffy?” he whispered.

“Is it okay if I come over there?” she whispered back.

“Of course it’s bloody okay.”

She snuggled up to him and he turned on his side, facing her, and put an arm around her.

“You need to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, kitten. I know I messed up, bringing up what I did, but I think it’s more than that.”

She pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his unbeating heart. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m the one that messed up. I was angry and I nearly hit you.”

“I sort of deserved it.”

“No!” Her voice was adamant. “Spike…have you noticed since we got back together, that whenever we spar or train together I’m always working with a weapon?”

“Only now that you mention it.”

“I can’t…after I…I left you for dead. I beat you up and left you, not caring what happened. The sun, a passing demon. I was so busy thinking I was doing the right thing, that I did one of the worst things I’ve ever done in my life. So now I can’t. I can’t hit you and…I just can’t, and I almost forgot myself because I’m an idiot.”

He ran a hand over her hair. “Lamb…no. You were doing the best you could right then. I was a bit banged up, but I don’t think about that day at all. You don’t need to worry about smacking me around if I deserve it.”

Buffy didn’t make a sound for several long seconds. “Yes, Spike, I do. I love you. I hurt you and I never want to do that again. And don’t try to take it away from me or excuse me. I know I chose the wrong thing.” There was another long pause. “I think you understand. Owning the thing you did wrong to the person you love.”

He shattered.

“Buffy….” He was trembling and had to shift away. They hadn’t talked about what he’d done to her. Not really.

“Shh,” she said, her hand running up and down his arm. “Those moments, they don’t define me. You have no idea how fast I forgave whatever there was to forgive, but I know you will never forgive yourself, and that’s hard for me. There’s a before and after and you’ll never be the same. Your soul…god, you could have dusted and I would never have known.” She pressed closer to him. “Even then I wasn’t ready for a world without you in it.”

“I hurt you.” Spike was wishing desperately he’d taken her to a restaurant, or a park, or literally absolutely anywhere that wasn’t being naked in a bed beside her. He was scared to move, to risk touching any part of her. How could she stand to be near him?

“I know. And I hurt you. And we live with that pain because the only other option is to be apart and, that…that would be so much worse.” She sniffled. “We know it’s worse.”

He did. Empty days with no Buffy, no love, no anything. But he had to make her understand because this might be the only time he could work up the courage to do so. “Luv…I…hurt you, and like you said, I can’t again. Never. So I know…you tell me harder, give it to you rougher, faster and I try…but kitten…it can’t be like before, when I could pin you, hold your arms down without thinking. I know you like that. I always want to give you—” His voice broke and he had to pause, ride out the stab of pain that went through him. “To give you everything. Only I can’t. Not that.”

Buffy’s palm was warm on his cheek. She trailed her fingers down his neck to his shoulder, then pressed her hand against his back and she shifted so her entire body, from forehead to toes, was snuggled firmly against him.

“Okay,” she said. “No Buffy hitting Spike and no Spike holding Buffy down. Check. We can handle that.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact and reasonable that relief poured through him. “Right, I think so.”

“Now, we need to rewind.”

They did?

“You are ten kinds of hung up on Angel and I want to know why. I’m not even that hung up on him. And, for the record, if he walked in here right this minute with a heartbeat, a million dollars, a dozen roses, and a kitten…I won’t go with him.”

“No?”

“Nope. I’d keep the kitten, though.”

“You would?” Spike was fast losing track of this conversation.

“Totally.”

“You want a kitten?”

“Well, kind of? I think we’re ready for a pet.”

Pets were a long-term thing. She expected them to be together and have a kitten. And she didn’t want Angel. She’d said so. He was digging his hands into the mattress to keep himself from floating away in hope and happiness. “What do you want to name the kitty?”

“Spike, so not the point right now.”

“Oh, um, what were we talking about?” Maybe she wouldn’t remember. Or let him get out of it talking about anything that had to do with him and Angel.

“Angel? You? I mean, I get that Dru was always about Angel and I guess I understand why you’d worry, but I’m pretty sure you know I’m not her.”

“Not even close.”

Buffy’s hand stroked his back. “But, there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Damn it. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I don’t?” Buffy frowned against his skin. “More than being Dru’s sire, what could be more than…oh my god. Spike!”

Uh-oh.

“I bet…vampires…family…you slept with him.” Buffy poked Spike’s back with a finger. “I can’t believe I hadn’t figured that out before. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Can I lie?” he asked hopefully.

“No way, mister.”

“Fine. I slept with him. Not that much, more times than you have, not anytime that could remotely resemble recently, and you and I are not going to bond over sex with Angelus.”

Spike swore he could hear Buffy thinking.

“Did you like it?” she asked at last. “Or was it…was it something you chose?”

The concern in her voice nearly broke him. “I was a pretty new vampire, pet. I don’t remember being asked, but I don’t remember fighting against it either. Was fun at the time.” He shrugged. “And it was mostly a power play on Angelus’ part, plus in some twisted way it made me feel closer to Dru.” The memories of the sex itself were old and dim. “I hated myself a little because I liked that it made me feel wanted. I was always the outsider and I cherished anything that made me believe I was part of the group.” He hoped she’d drop it.

“I can’t exactly ask this nicely,” she said, and he had to bite his tongue. Oh great, she wanted details. “I know you like sleeping with me, but…do you like guys too? We’ve been talking a lot about how sort of confused I’ve been with my own sexuality, but we haven’t talked about you.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding, glad to be on safer ground. “I’m straight.”

“You sure?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been around long enough to figure out what strikes my fancy.” To show her he meant business he slid his hand down to grab her ass cheek and squeeze it through her panties. “It’s birds and all their wonderful bits that my mind, and other parts, gets hung up on. Especially if that bird is you.”

“But, like, you couldn’t see yourself ever dating a guy? Even if you had lots in common and got along really well? You’re the biggest romantic I know.”

He pursed his lips. “Let me think about it for a tic.” He tried to picture it, coming up with a slim, dark-haired bloke that—rather distressingly—vaguely resembled Dru. Sitting and talking with the fellow for hours, going to dinner, buying him things so his eyes lit up and it just…didn’t work. Something was missing. Honestly, mostly what was missing was Buffy, but with a man, the same personal delight he got from making a woman happy wasn’t there. Maybe it was a weird hangover from his human days when he’d longed for a wife so badly.

Hell if he knew. It just was.

“Buffy, I’ll start by saying that if something incredibly strange happened and you became a man, I would stay with you, but otherwise, no. I like women, both in bed and in my life. Whatever makes them different from a man, physically and mentally, I like that.”

“Thank you for really thinking it over.” She sounded a little funny.

“It’s not weird that you can see yourself being close to a chit, Buffy.” He reckoned she needed to hear that. “And you like having things in common with someone you care about, don’t you? I don’t mean body parts, but that someone is your equal. It’s a big part of why you liked the Japanese Slayer, isn’t it?”

He felt Buffy fidget. “Yes…and, you remember Faith, right?”

“She’s hard to forget.”

Buffy’s finger jammed into his back.

“That made you jealous and not the bit with Angel?”

She poked him again, hard.

“That’s not going to work to stake me, you know?”

“Ugh,” Buffy groaned. “Fine. When you knew Faith, that last year in Sunnydale…how we were then wasn’t how we were when she first came to Sunnydale when I was a senior in high school.”

“She confused you.”

“Yeah, a lot. Enormous amounts. I know you remember Kendra as well.”

“Yes,” he said softly. Dru had taken that one out with thrall. Not quite fair, that. And Kendra must have been blasted young, even younger than Buffy. It made him feel a little off now.

“I wanted to blame all the weirdness I felt about Faith on her being a Slayer, but I’d never felt the same around Kendra. I guess I just…liked Faith, back then. And I think she kind of liked me. Though I tried to kill her so that ruined whatever could have been, then she stole my body…it was a mess.”

“We’ve tried to kill each other an awful lot without it ever ruining the mood.”

Buffy laughed. “That’s the truth, but I didn’t stab you so I could feed you to Angel.”

“Well, no. Can’t say I would have appreciated that.” At all. Christ, Angel and she really brought out the worst in each other. “But go back before that. Did you really like-like her, or did you just want to be her?”

“That’s kind of a hard question.”

Spike’s hand was still on Buffy’s ass and he patted her reassuringly.

“I wanted to be free and wild like Faith was, but…I really think there was more, a lot more, I wasn’t picking up on, or maybe wasn’t ready to face. I was too young to know what it meant, but Faith would do things like ask me out and then bracket it with ‘we’ll find some guys’ or something when I didn’t respond immediately. But it was me she wanted to go out with. And I would. I’d go out with her. I’d go slaying with her. And I’d want to spend time with her. Only, in the end, I think I got so mixed up that I ended up not treating her how I should have.”

Shit. Was Spike going to end up feeling horribly sympathetic for every bint Buffy had ever looked twice at? “I might have an inkling about how that song goes.”

Buffy heaved a huge sigh. “I really do keep making the same mistakes, don’t I?”

He kissed her forehead.

“I don’t know why you put up with me,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.  

“If you’re looking for someone who’s mistake-free to throw rocks at you…you’ve chosen the wrong bloody bloke.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“That’s the truth kitten, though I’m just glad to be a pair with you.”

“Hey, yeah.” Buffy kissed his mouth, softly and slowly. “We’re like gloves, or socks, or other things that belong in pairs.”

She was the cutest thing in existence.

The hand he had on her ass began doing a lot more fondling.

“Can we do the making love stuff we’re good at, so I know you’re not mad or weirded out at me?” Buffy asked, her hands slid up into his hair and he purred slightly as she dragged her fingernails over his scalp.

“I can tell you I’m not mad or weirded out at you, but it would mean everything to be with you right now.”

“Slow and gentle,” she said. “Not because of…earlier, but because I think I need it to last a while.”

“As long as you want.” He peppered kisses over her face and helped her get her panties off before hiking her leg over his hip.

“My whole life.”

“Done.”


	5. Under Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Chapel under the cathedral is entirely a product of my own imagination, as are the stairs down to it. I claim poetic license ;-)

The weather was still nasty and grey, with rain clouds hovering over Barcelona, much to Spike’s delight. Buffy had wanted to spend part of the day exploring one of the City’s crown jewels, the immense Sagrada Familia Cathedral, and the terrible weather meant he was able to go with her. The chill and drizzle had kept a lot of other tourists away, so while they by no means had the place to themselves, it was far less busy than either of them had been expecting.

Spike tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling of the cathedral. The pillars soared upward, only to then branch like trees. It was mesmerizing.

“I can’t believe it’s been more than a century and it’s still not done,” Buffy said from beside him, her arm linked with his.

“Building started two years after I was turned,” he replied. “I’ve seen it from the outside before, but never inside. And I like that it’s still a bloody work in process. Some things take time.”

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Feeling empathy for a church?”

“I think so.” The place hardly felt like one. It was something different. Technically, the ground was consecrated. That was an unwelcoming hum in his body, but Gaudi’s architecture made the church feel more like part of the world than separate from it.

“You doing okay in here?”

“So far the ground hasn’t cracked open to swallow me whole if that’s what you mean.”

He was going for a bit of a giggle and didn’t quite realize what he’d said until a look of horror washed over Buffy’s face. It was gone in an instant as she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s good,” she said.

“Sorry.” He pulled her into a hug. She made a noise like she was going to protest, then just sagged against him.

“I’m glad you don’t think about that enough to not make that joke.”

“It’s just a thing that happened…I didn’t have to deal with being dead. Not like you being brought back from paradise.”

She pushed herself upright a smidge and looked into his face. “Sometimes I think that happened to someone else. It’s so far away, now. I have all the heaven I need, and it’s right here,” she cupped his cheek with her warm hand, “but I guess I won’t ever stop worrying it’s going to be ripped away again.”

He had to close his eyes as he tried to keep from getting swept under by a tidal wave of emotion. Too many for him to even bloody sort out. He went with the biggest one. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Spike.” There was a pause. “Um, maybe you should distract me before I start ugly crying.”

“Right.” Having something to do instantly made dealing with maelstrom inside him a little easier. He took her hand in his and tucked it into the crook of his elbow as they slowly strolled through the vast structure. There were so many windows, quite a few of which were stained glass. When the sun shone, it must be spectacular. Not that he’d ever know, but that hardly mattered when it was his undead status that’d kept him around long enough to find the woman he’d been destined to love.

She still seemed stuck in her memories.

“Did you think any more about looking up your dad while we’re here in Barcelona? You have his addy, don’t you?” he asked.

Buffy snorted. “No.”

“You’d don’t know his address?”

“I mean: ‘no’, I have no intention of seeing him.” She was looking down one of the staircases that led to the crypt under the building. He leaned over as well. It looked like it disappeared into infinity. There was a rope with a closed sign hanging across the entrance. Buffy stared at it, then swiveled her head around. There were no other tourists near them and the only security Spike could see was a guy with his back to them.

He cocked an eyebrow at Buffy.

“Hurry,” she hissed, stepping over the rope and moving with Slayer speed and stealth down the stairs. He hurried after her, finding himself in the dark after the final twist of the staircase. There were flickering lights ahead which he followed, finding himself in a deserted chapel with Buffy and a multitude of small, lit candles on two racks on either side of a small altar. She slid into one of the wooden pews, that lined the rest of the space, and he sat beside her.

She leaned against him and, as he put an arm around her, she let out a sigh.

“This is peaceful,” she said.

“It is, but you ran away from my question.”

“I know.” She tapped her toes briefly. “My dad doesn’t really feel like my dad anymore. I don’t want to see him, deal with him, ask him why he didn’t give Dawn or me any money after Mom died, or even so much as came to see her, if not me. He’s not family anymore.”

Spike threaded his fingers through the ends of her hair. “Got it. No Da.”

“It’s not like you’d want to go out of your way to see most of your vampire family.”

“God, no.”

“Do you miss your mom?”

Spike’s stomach dropped. “Yes, pet. I hate to tell you, but I don’t think that’s something that ever stops.”

“I know.”

After a moment he stood and took her hand again and led her to one of the racks with candles. There wasn’t a donation box, but he fished a few bills out of his pocket and left them beside a stack of unlit candles.

“I’m not Catholic,” Buffy said, frowning, as he handed her one of the small candles. He took another himself.

“I don’t think that matters, pet.” He lit the candle he was holding with his lighter and set it beside the others with their dancing flames. “For Anne, my mother,” he whispered.

Buffy lit her candle off his. “For Joyce, my mother,” she said, gazing at the tiny flame. He curled an arm around Buffy’s waist, and she put a hand over his where it rested on her hip.

He pictured his mum as she’d been when he’d been a lad, laughing and smiling as she painted or sketched. He wished he had one of those paintings now. There’d been one of a bluebird and a white rose. He could remember it in vivid detail. He wondered what had ever become of everything in his old house. Probably long in the rubbish bin.

Strong fingers squeezed his. “You okay?”

“Just a little lost in the past.”

“I could tell you about how Satsu and I broke up?”

“You’re trying to divert my attention with hot girl on girl action?”

She rolled her eyes. “Something like that, pig.” There was no censure in her voice. He was relieved she’d caught that he’d been teasing her. “My other option is to immorally fornicate with my demon lover atop a consecrated altar.”

“How immorally are we talking?”

“How do you know I meant you?”

“I…” he sighed. Buffy was smiling sweetly, if not exactly innocently. He narrowed his eyes at her. “As tempting as that is, I think I settle for the story now and a roll in the hay when I don’t have the church creepy crawlies nipping at my backside.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

He returned to sitting in a pew and pulled her onto his lap until she was sitting crosswise, her head tucked against his shoulder.

“It is, one of the worst kind of creepy crawlies, but once I get you back to the hotel…can you wear that silk nightie you have, the one with lace over your tits?” She looked a right treat in that one, nipples on display through the lace and the silk hugging her hips—

There was a poke at his chest. “Sure, but aren’t you supposed to be listening while I talk?”

“Got distracted.”

She screwed up her nose and looked around at the shadow-filled chapel. The way parts of it came together made him think of bones, like they were huddled together in the skeleton of some huge animal.

“Distracted by what?” she asked.

Spike ran a finger over her face, “You.”

“Oh.” She blushed faintly, and it made his chest warm to know he could still make her do that, even after all the things they’d done with each other…and to each other…er, he’d better pay attention.

“How’d you end it with the girl?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Probably no grenades involved this time.”

“Er, no.” She ducked her head like she was ashamed. “I’m sorry for that, too. I…shouldn’t have listened to Riley.”

“Things couldn’t go on like they were, luv. I know that now.”

“Yeah,” she said faintly, almost as if she didn’t quite believe it. “I had some growing up to do.”

“We both did.”

He stroked her hair and buried his nose in it. Someday, one of the poems he scribbled about it would be worth letting her read.

“I’m still not done with the growing up,” Buffy said. “But I like to think I learned a little more from Satsu. She knew I wasn’t in any place to handle a relationship and we needed someone to stay behind and train the Japanese Slayers.”

“So she volunteered.”

Buffy snuggled tighter against him. “Yeah.”

“It still hurt.”

“Yeah.”

Spike knew Buffy didn’t like letting go of someone once she was attached to them. He believed her, now, that she was as over Angel as she was getting, but part of Spike would always suspect it wouldn’t be that hard for Angel to worm himself back into Buffy’s life if he wanted to. She just didn’t know how to let go.

Well, fuck, who was Spike trying to kid. Neither did he. Hell, he’d been hero worshipping Angel in L.A. and believing if he did just a little bit better then gramps would finally look on him with love and approval. It was the exact same crap Spike’d done as a fledge, wanting the almighty Angelus to bestow his blessing on him.  Like Buffy, there were some mistakes Spike had to repeat more than once to learn his lesson. 

Buffy sighed. “I spent one last night with her. That was new for me. A final time that I knew for sure was the last.”

Spike cradled Buffy’s face with a hand, she looked and sounded so sad. Goodbyes were rough for her. She’d had too many of them. Maybe he could at least make her laugh. “Was it good?”

“Oh my god, Spike!”

He was sure he could hear her eyes rolling, but now he was genuinely curious. “Not asking for details, luv, just the general.”

“Yes, okay? I liked it. She still did way more than me, but it felt good, and I liked making her feel good, even if it was bittersweet because I knew, after the next day, I wouldn’t be seeing her again anytime soon, or maybe ever.”

Spike was surprised at how not jealous he felt. “There were good things about having been her girlfriend, right?”

Buffy’s face scrunched up a little while she worked that over in her mind. “Yes? I think so, anyway. I guess I learned something about myself, which had been sitting there neglected for years after I met Faith in high school. After Satsu and I broke up, I did figure out that she’d made me feel better about being a Slayer. I’d liked her strength, and how she dealt with being chosen. It looked good on her. And afterwards, it was easier to like those parts of myself as well.”

Buffy chewed on her lip, and he let her work on whatever she was trying to say. At last, she shifted so she was straddling him and looking down into his face.

She slowly traced a finger over his cheek. “All this talking stuff has me thinking about things that I haven’t for a while. I’ve been so busy just being with you.” He tilted his head as she got a little dreamy-eyed. “I like being with you,” she said.

Spike could tell she had more to say about either Satsu or herself. “Keep talking, kitten…and I like being with you, too.” Especially like this, being let in far past her usual guard. Her mind and heart were wide open, and he basked in her love and trust. He looped his arms around her in a loose hug. She kissed the end of his nose.

“I think…okay. Here goes: I like guys a lot, especially physically. And especially you, before you go getting wigged out.” Buffy wrapped her hands around his upper arms, and he obligingly flexed for her, making her cheeks pink up a little. “I don’t do that with girls, but…when I care for one as more than a friend, then I can…I do…physically like and want to be with them.” She wrinkled up her nose. “What the hell does that mean?”

Spike could feel she was on the very edge of something big, but she was scared. It would mean she was different, and Buffy hated being different. “I think you have a little inkling,” he said.

“I’m not sure I’m inking anything…I mean, doesn’t it have to be fifty-fifty? Don’t you have to like everybody the same to be that? Like, I enjoy both apples and oranges…or apples and bananas…” She huffed. “Don’t I have to like everything in the fruit salad the same?”

He couldn’t help letting out a little chuckle. “I don’t think it works like that. You like what you like. As long as I’m the banana in this scenario, I’m good.”

“Ew, Spike.” She made a face. “So not what I meant.” Her expression became serious again. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Buffy worried her bottom lip so vigorously Spike was worried she was going to chomp a hole in it. “Because,” she said at last, “because it would mean I like something that you don’t have and that might make you feel bad.”

“You’re not going to make me feel bad.” He studied her face, which was full of uncertainty. Slowly, he slid his hands up her back. “What I need from us—” He had to stop and clear his suddenly dry throat. “I need us to be just us. For you to belong to me and for me to belong—” he pressed his face against her chest “—for me to belong to you.”

A corner of his brain put it together that he was clutching the Slayer that he loved, nearly in tears, while sitting before an altar on holy ground. He was a sodding terrible demon.

Not that he cared.

He’d always been a bit of a rebel.

Buffy pushed herself upright. “Do you know what I need from you?”

Oh, balls, that sounded like a loaded question. “Tell me,” Spike said. “You know I’d do anything.”

“Sometimes that’s scary.”

“For me, too.”

She looked away, into the shadows of the empty church crypt. “I need you to be here, with me, no matter what. Even when I’m wrong, even when I’m stupid or mean or not perfectly pleasant or doing what you want me to…” she trailed off. “Even when things can’t be what we’d like them to be.”

Spike’s stomach dropped to the ground. That last bit he knew had to do with Angel walking away from her because the berk couldn’t deal with not banging her. Selfish fucking prick. If the only way Spike could be with her was to neuter himself, he wouldn’t hesitate…well, not much anyway.

Probably shouldn’t suddenly burst out that he’d cut off his balls for her. She might not get where he was going with that one.

There was also the uncomfortable fact that he’d not been with her, more than once, when she’d needed him. It’s what had started this whole jaunt to the continent in the first place, that he’d sat on his ass in L.A. mired in the belief he had to be more to be with her…when it’d been the being with part that she truly cared about.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling completely inadequate. He’d fucked up by trying not to fuck up, staying chained to Angel in L.A. instead of being where he bloody well knew he should be.

Buffy looked confused for a moment, then blew out a breath. “I’m not talking about the past. I mean going forward.”

Now he was bewildered. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice small. She still wasn’t quite looking at Spike. He was floored by her dogged belief that somehow she was going to drive him away. That by simply being who she was, he’d find a reason to go.

“Not happening, kitten. I’m going to be underfoot for sodding ever. Long past the point you’re sick of me. So go ahead, lay this on me. Try being not normal and see what I do.”

“Okay.” Her fingers dug into his arms like she was going to have to hold him down to keep him from bolting. She took a deep breath, and her gaze finally met his. She looked terrified. Poor chit. He made a soothing noise low in his throat and rubbed his palms up and down her back. She’d idolized normal, fetishized it. Made love to it. Uncomfortable memories of standing outside her window, smoking and listening to her moan while Riley had been drilling her came back. Fuck that sod.

For all kinds of reasons, but mostly for driving home to Buffy that she wasn’t wonderful because she hadn’t been what he needed.

Buffy pursed her lips. “I think…no, I am bisexual.” She trembled under his hands but didn’t run.

He didn’t move, just raised an eyebrow. Gradually, she relaxed. “Does it feel good to say it?”

“Kind of? I’m just worried about being judged, from all directions. Like I’ll never be straight enough or gay enough for anyone, and they’ll all line up tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m certain there’ll be plenty of those people. Everyone always is looking down their noses at anyone that puts a toe out of line. Only, lamb, I hate to tell you this, but the number of people who are going to say you’re wrong about that sort of pales in comparison to the sheer multitudes that would swarm to tell you you’re far past wrong for dating the undead.”

Her gaze narrowed and she looked wickedly brassed off. “It’s my life, and nobody gets to say a thing about who I love or want to be with…” she trailed off. “Oh, I get it.”

He smiled and cupped the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss. She molded herself against him and moved her mouth fervently against his, welcoming his tongue with her own and teasing the underside in that way that drove him barmy. He growled faintly and nipped at her lower lip, which made her moan.

Voices, speaking Spanish and sounding decidedly ecclesiastical, interrupted the making-out. Buffy was on her feet in an instant, giggling silently and dragging him into the dark behind one of the thick pillars that were holding up the roof. She tugged him into another kiss, only to break it off, breathless, a moment later.

“I’m a bisexual Slayer macking on my vampire boyfriend in a church,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m pretty sure that’s lots of things the Council wouldn’t have liked. Do I win a prize for being the weirdest Slayer ever?”

“You’re amazing. And I was thinking earlier that I might have to turn my big bad card in for cuddling with the Slayer I love on sacred ground.”  

“Gee, we’re both totally terrible at doing what we’re supposed to…are you sure it doesn’t bug you? The bisexual stuff?”

“No. I’m getting a kick out of watching you discover yourself. It’s a privilege to be beside someone as fascinating as you. There’s never a buggering boring minute.” Spike braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning in to capture her lips again. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but the fact she was around to be putting the puzzle pieces of who she was together was a feat in and of itself. If he had any say in it, she’d be alive to discover a hell of a lot more.

Christ, she tasted good.

The voices moved off, and Buffy ducked under his arm, smiling impishly. “We better get back upstairs before we’re found out. Getting kicked out of a major landmark wasn’t my plan today.”

He followed her silently back up the stairs. They emerged, blinking, into the much brighter nave of the cathedral. It was still overcast, the light indirect, but after the darkness of the crypt it felt to his eyes like he was standing in the noonday sun.

They waited a few seconds, but no one seemed to notice they’d broken the rules, and Buffy slid her hand into his and entwined their fingers.

They walked together slowly, side-by-side, pointing out to each other intricacies embedded in the structure and stonework of the church. At last, they came to a halt in the middle of the nave, tall columns soaring on either side of them. Tourists were wandering about, their conversations a low buzz.

He tugged her into his arms, and she came willingly, her hands settling on the nape of his neck. All the love and trust in her eyes made his heart fly.

“Don’t ever be done finding yourself,” he said. Buffy smiled, and he bowed his head and kissing her right there, in front of God and the entire bloody world.


	6. A Big Rock

Esta noche bailamos

Te doy toda mi vida

Quédate conmigo

               -Enrique Iglesias, “Bailamos”

 

****

The hotel was small and old. Gibraltar was full of posh places, and Buffy hadn’t wanted to stay at any of them. She hadn’t wanted polish, and she’d gotten her wish. The tiny, dark room did have a view of the ocean behind its thick curtains—but then almost everywhere in the territory did— and it didn’t smell too bad, but there was one unexpected feature.

Two beds.

Two thin, narrow beds that were less than a foot apart. Buffy had walked in and stopped dead.

Spike had laughed his ass off. “It’s still the bloody 1950s in here! I didn’t know we’d be time traveling, luv.”

Buffy had been less amused.

They’d flown in late and had a hasty fish n’ chips dinner before checking in. Buffy had been beat and had quickly fallen asleep, curled up on her side in the ridiculously small bed. He’d stayed up and watched the BBC for a while longer. Vampire hours. But eventually, he’d clicked off the ancient set and tried to get some kip. Alone.

It hadn’t gone well. Spike had turned, tossed, attempted to beat the pillow into submission, cursed at the ceiling, and eventually given up and invaded Buffy’s bed, curling up tight against her, even though his arse was hanging off the edge. He’d sacrificed a great deal more for her than simple comfort before. 

Buffy had sighed in her sleep and cuddled against him.

He’d fallen asleep in seconds.

When the sun had risen, Buffy had wiggled out of his arms, dressed, rained kisses on his face, and gone off to play tourist.

Sweaty and slightly sunburned, she’d come back to the hotel with a couple of pints of blood and leads on a few bars and restaurants for the two of them to visit once darkness had descended. She’d also been full of tales about her exploits, how she’d gone to the top of the big rock and walked on the beach, been harassed by monkeys, and spent most of the day outdoors. As always, he was thrilled for her and slightly sad he’d not been able to be there.

Buffy was laying on her stomach on her bed flipping through a magazine. “Do you care if I call Willow?”

“You looking to tell her about your epiphany?” he asked. He was sprawled in a rickety wooden chair, seated beside a battered wooden dresser, with a cheap beer in his hand. He’d showered and hadn’t bothered with a shirt afterwards, mostly to try and get Buffy to look at him after she’d been out looking at a bunch of other shit all day. He wasn’t sure yet if he was going to be successful or not.

Maybe he should take off his pants? That usually worked.

“Yup,” she said. “And it’s my birthday tomorrow. She can tell me happy birthday.” Buffy was dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts. A fairly teeny pair of shorts. The view was nice from where he was sitting.

Spike chuckled at Buffy. She always enjoyed the hell out of her birthday. And rightly so. Each one was precious. “Go ahead. We can grab a bite when you’re done chatting with your mate.”

Buffy rummaged around in a small bag and pulled out an international calling card and picked up the hotel phone. It looked like it was probably only twenty years old. She dialed a long string of numbers and waited as the phone rang half a world away.

“Hello?” Willow’s voice was tinny and scratchy.

“Hey, Wills!” Buffy said.

That’s all it took for the two birds to start nattering at each other nonstop.

Ignoring them, Spike cracked the window and lit a smoke. Oddly enough, the room was a smoking one, and there was one of those heavy, glass ashtrays that used to be ubiquitous sitting on the top of the dresser. The place really was mired in the past.

He mostly ignored what Buffy and Willow said to each other, focusing on enjoying his cig and beer instead.

Until Buffy got around to telling Willow about the whole bisexual thing. That made his ears perk up. His girl was sitting on the foot of her bed, biting her lip and looking slightly terrified as she waited for Willow’s response.

There was silence and then a loud squeal of joy from Willow that had Buffy holding the phone away from her ear and grinning like mad.

“I knew it!” Willow said as Buffy gingerly put the receiver back against her head.

“Am I that obvious?” Buffy said.

Willow giggled. “A little, to me, but it’s way more important that you worked it around in your brain and are okay with it…you are okay with it, right?”

Spike tapped a finger against his beer bottle and waited while Buffy gathered her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she said at last. “I think I am.”

Willow squealed again, but a lot less loudly this time. “Oh gosh, Buffy, I can visit, and we can go to Cleveland’s pride parade, and it’ll be so much fun!”

“Probably?” Buffy made a face. “I’m kind of worried that people won’t believe me, even other people that are…um, like me.”

Her voice was thin in a way that made something in his chest ache, and he absently rubbed a hand over the spot.

Willow sighed. “There’s always going to be people who are going to say stuff like that. Sort of like how most people we meet pretend there’s nothing really scary out there going bump in the night, even if they see a demon…it’s easier for them to believe in a world where things like that don’t exist. But you know better, and you have lots of friends who know better, and we’re all cheering for you.”

Buffy gripped the phone’s receiver tightly, but she smiled.

“So…” Willow said, “are you still with Spike? Because there’s a couple of nice girls—”

“Willow!” Buffy huffed.

Spike looked heavenward and tipped his bottle of beer up for a drink.

“Yes, I’m still with Spike.” Buffy’s eyes glinted mischievously. “In fact, I’m riding his dick right now.”

Spike nearly choked on his beer and half of what was in his mouth went up his nose.

Willow was making similar sputtering noises.

He slammed his beer down on the dresser and ground out the butt of his smoke in the ashtray as he coughed.

Buffy had turned over on her back on the bed and was shaking with laughter.

Bint thought she was funny, did she?

He stood and pounced on her, straddling her and doing his best to look scary as he growled.

She completely ignored him.

Damn.

“Not planning on being with anyone else,” Buffy said. “I love Spike.”

He went all gooey at that, and his growl faded as he bent down and rested his forehead against hers.

“Girls are pretty cool,” Willow said, but her voice was teasing.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know that.”

“But seriously, it’d be so weird if you guys weren’t being all lovey-dovey. You two are scarily cute together.”

“Scarily bad ass together,” Spike muttered. Buffy patted his chest.

Willow sighed. “I hope I can find someone that I get along with as half as well.”

“You will,” Buffy said.

“I hope. There’s not a lot of loves out there like you and Spike, and I sort of…messed up what I think was my one chance.”

“Tara wouldn’t want you to think like that, Red,” Spike said. “Love shows up when you least want or expect it.” He nuzzled Buffy’s neck.

It sounded like Willow was suppressing tears. “I want to believe that. Let’s hope she doesn’t spend a couple of years trying to kill me first.”

Buffy snorted. “Let’s hope she doesn’t insist on bleaching her hair.”

“You like the hair,” Spike said.

Buffy didn’t respond, but carded her fingers through his tangled curls and scratched, making him purr. He knew she liked his hair just the way it was.

“You guys are coming back soon?” Willow asked.

“A few more days. We’re going to adopt a kitty.” Buffy sounded eager, which made him happy. “It’s been a really good trip.”

“Spike does have good ideas from time to time, but Buffy, you better watch him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a big ole softy and you’ll end up with like thirty cats if you’re not careful.”

Buffy scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, you’re so right.”

“I was only thinking two. Don’t want them to get lonely,” Spike said. Two little fluff balls. Maybe three.

Buffy eyed him.

He tried to look innocent, but he’d never been very good at that.

“No worries, Willow, I won’t let him go to the shelter unsupervised.”

“A wise choice,” Willow said. “Now I better let you go so you can have dinner. Happy Birthday, Buffy, I’ll see you soon.”

Buffy hung up the phone. “Two?”

“Maybe? I’ll clean the litterbox and feed ‘em. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Uh-hu, but—”

He figured the ‘uh-hu’ meant he’d won the argument and they could work out specifics later, so he kissed her. She groaned into his mouth and put her arm around him, pulling him close.

“Can we just order room service?” she gasped when his lips left hers to trail kisses over her jaw and neck.

“Sure thing, luv,” he said, his fingers undoing the button of her jeans. “Just let me have something to eat first, yeah?”

She pouted for a moment until it clicked in her brain what he meant. Buffy was always adorable when she got too turned on to think straight.

She wiggled her hips. “Yes, please.” There was a pause. “You’re not doing that because…um, of, because it’s something a girl would…and you need to do it better?”

He raised an eyebrow as he pulled up her shirt. “Still not bloody weirded out about the bisexual thing, luv. And I hadn’t even thought of that. It’s more because it’s your birthday and I want to make you come like a freight train…and little because I’m a vampire and I have a wee bit of an oral fixation.”

“Am I complaining? Do you hear me complaining?”

He looked up at her.

She bit her lip. “I’m still worried you’re going to treat me differently, now.”

“Do you know how happy I am you can say that to me and not just lay there and worry about it while I’m licking you?”

She reached out and cupped his cheek. “We’ve learned a lot, haven’t we?”

He nodded. “Still learning, and for the record, not going to treat you any different. Not going to start asking you if you fancy some chit we walk by, no more than I ask your opinion on random blokes. Might have to start flashing a bit of fang at the birds that make eyes at you, like I do the gents, to let them know you’re taken.”

“Spike!”

“Always works like a charm.”

“Don’t you have something you should be doing?”

“Damn right, I do.” He pulled her pants down her legs, smiling as she tried to arrange herself on the ridiculously narrow bed. He knelt at the side of it and pulled her to him, spreading her legs wide with his palms. “Happy Birthday, Buffy.”

“Oh!” she gasped as he went to work, much to his satisfaction.

****

It was late when they managed to get dressed and go out to walk. It was supposedly patrolling, but they were walking hand in hand and not spending much time going down alleys or looking in other vamp hidey-holes, and neither he or Buffy had sensed any demons of the nefarious variety as they’d ambled along anyway.

They’d simply wandered through the city streets, the moon high overhead, washing everything in silvery light. They’d pass bars which smelled of booze and desperation and nightclubs pulsing with lights and music.

The air smelled of ocean and fried food.

Spike’s heart was full, of Buffy, of love…and for the first time, peace.

His demon side slept, content to have made love to their girl. He tacitly ignored the part of him who found a moonlight stroll with the one he loved to be the kind of romantic that needed rhyming lines written about it.

Not that he disagreed.

Maybe he’d write these ones down and give them to her next year. She’d like that.

He looked over at her as they turned a corner and headed into a more residential area, full of apartment buildings stacked nearly on top of each other. He must have lived in America for too long, as the crowded homes seemed unbearably small.

“And I thought we lived in a postage stamp,” Buffy said, echoing his own thoughts.

“We’re certainly spoiled for space.” He filed that away for future use when they were picking out their new pets back home. It felt good to be settled, though he did have one last question. “Buffy, whatever happened to Satsu?”

Buffy shrugged. “She’s still in Japan, leading the slayers there. Sometimes Willow tells me about something she’s done. And I got a postcard around Christmas with a picture of Mt. Fuji on it that I think was from her, but it didn’t have her name on the back, so I’m not sure. It just said: ‘happy holidays’, so maybe she thinks about me from time to time.”

“And do you think about her?” He wasn’t worried Buffy was going to run off, but he wanted to understand.

“I like knowing she’s still okay and fighting, and I hope she’s happy, but besides that, except for talking about her with you during this trip, I don’t much anymore. I’m glad I’ve figured out that she did help me, more than I knew, during a difficult time. She’d helped me be more…me, I guess.” Buffy’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, and from the next street over there was the whine of a moped’s engine.

They walked in silence for a minute while Buffy organized her thoughts.

“I guess she’s still helping me be me,” Buffy said, her face thoughtful. “Being with her, I guess now it let me realize, a little late, that I’m bi. And while I’m still worried about what other people will think, in my own head, it makes things easier.”

“How’s that?”

“Like I said, I tend to find guys more attractive—” she reached out and squeezed his arm “—but that doesn’t mean I never see a picture of a woman in a magazine or whatever and think: ‘she’s cute,’ but before I used to have to try and work it into some complicated platonic thing. And now I don’t. It’s nice. Guys can be cute, girls can be cute.” Buffy looked over at him. “And I hope you know that thinking things like that…you’re still the one I want to be with.”

“I think I’ve figured that out, yeah.” He’d been so terrified of losing her, but that feeling wasn’t there anymore. He might have been tilting at windmills over that as it was. Buffy had figured out her own mind, and heart. And somehow, he’d been the one she’d found there. “What would happen if we ever ran into this Satsu chick?”

“I sort of hope we don’t, because even if she knows I’m with you, it still might bug her that you’re a guy. I’m worried that she’d think that’s why me and her weren’t compatible, instead of me not being emotionally a wreck because…” Buffy trailed off, but she halted. The street was quiet, the windows of the homes unlit, and the bulk of the rock a huge mass in the darkness above them. She wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her tight, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“If we met her, I’d introduce you and mostly hope neither one of you would be weird about it.”

He breathed in Buffy’s scent. “I promise I would try to not be a wanker.”

“Good luck,” she said with a laugh. Christ, she really knew him. It was more than he’d ever dared dream of. “Y’know, on the tour today, I learned that—”

“You mean you listened, for once?”

“You weren’t there to distract me.”

That was fair. “What’d you learn, pet?”

“They talked about how this has been a safe place for travelers for eons. Everything past this point was wild and unpredictable. The ocean stretching away into what must have seemed like infinity.”

He chuckled. “Fair bit of fancy to that.”

“It must have been terrifying.”

Spike stroked her long hair. “Yeah, but also exhilarating. So many new things to see and do that those explorers could never have imagined.”

Buffy put her hand on his chest.

“We’ll be together,” he said. “No matter what the future holds. No matter how exciting or scary.”

She straightened up and looked into his face. “We’ve made a safe place for us, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, and unlike this bloody big rock we can carry it wherever we go.”

Buffy smiled and reached out, taking his hand and raising it as she intertwined her fingers with his and pressed their palms together. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his boots. She stared into his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

~FIN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! It was a work of love for me as I gave my favorite characters room to talk and grow in a way I usually don't. I hope you enjoyed the journey. I'd love to hear from you and what you thought of the story, whether it's ten seconds, ten months, or ten years after I first posted! 
> 
> -SunAlso, 2/12/2018 2106


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